


Crooked But Upright

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Don't Let's Start Adjacent [17]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Kuron is Shiro (Voltron)'s Clone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: ...And one time Ryou wasn't afraid.After some digging, Ryou believes he's found the source of a critical component for keeping clones. He follows the lead.Or: Ryou's terrible, no good, very bad two days.
Relationships: Kuron & Shiro (Voltron), Kuron & Voltron Paladins, Ryou & Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Don't Let's Start Adjacent [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/892047
Comments: 20
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re sure about this?”

Ryou tugs his scarf around his face, tugging it up to be sure that it totally covers his nose scar. His eyes barely flicker over to Matt Holt. “What’s there to be sure about?” He asks, voice only slightly muffled by the cloth.

Matt eyes him for another moment, then shrugs. He wraps a scarf around his face as well, with considerably less care. Then again, his face doesn’t have an extremely distinctive feature. Aside from generally looking human.

It’s odd to see Matt in anything other than the coalition gear. Almost as odd as wearing non-paladin armor. They’re both dressed in shades of brown, intentionally loose fitting to hide the shape of them.

This planet is technically within Galra space, but in the way the Space Mall used to be. For the most part, it’s a backwater little planet known for smuggling, pawn shops, and volcanic ash. Some Galra live and do business here, but the empire itself doesn’t have much use for it.

At least, that was the assumption. Ryou’s here to test that.

Matt shoots him one last curious look, then straps his staff to his back. Then, with a press of a button, their borrowed little ship opens up and lets them out.

It should be midday on Thutera, but the skies are a dark gray, like right before a powerful storm. Occasionally, there’s a flash of light from inside the clouds, then a distant rumble.

It’s no ordinary rainstorm, though. Above them is a roiling cloud of volcanic soot. A quirk of the planet’s weather and magnetism keep it hanging in the air like just another layer of the atmosphere, only ever gently raining down.

The dark skies and red lights are ominous, but they provide Matt and Ryou an advantage - literally everyone on this planet wears some form of face covering to filter out stray ash. Which means they blend right in to the packed crowds, many of whom wear similarly dark, utilitarian outfits. 

After all, white must be hell to keep clean in a place like this.

“Lead the way,” Matt says, gesturing grandly with a bow of his head. Even behind his scarf and glasses, it’s clear he’s giving a joking grin.

Ryou tries to give one back, but he knows it doesn’t reach his eyes enough to show. Instead he nods his head and starts to push his way down the streets, using his bulk to force a break through the indifferent crowd.

Matt follows close behind, staying in Ryou’s wake. They move quickly, ignoring the jostled shoulders and calls from vendors. This particular section of the city is where all traffic comes through, so there’s a booming business of accosting travelers out of their money.

Ryou’s not interested. After a glance, the vendors back off.

They finally break through the initial crowds, instead making their way through narrow, filthy back roads. They get no glances as they walk - everyone here keeps their head down and doesn’t make eye contact.

No one here wants to be noticed, after all.

Matt moves to walk side-by-side with Ryou, his hands casually in his pockets. Unlike Ryou’s business-oriented stride, he moves as casually as if he commutes these roads every day.

Ryou doesn’t lead them right toward their target - instead, he takes the longer way around. Just in case, he wants to get a feel for the clientele around these parts.

After all, there’s a pretty limited market for Lantean crystals. As far as Ryou knows, they’re only good for a very specific frequency of quintessence exchange. They can be charged, and then they feed out an incredibly stable amount back, at just the right volume to sustain humanoid life.

In short, they’re the best batteries for cloning machines.

And this is the only known vendor - black market or otherwise - on this side of the galaxy.

If Haggar is building new pods, or needs to sustain the two they know she has, then there’s a good chance she’s using this supplier.

They’re not likely to run into her personally here. Even if she’s in need of crystals, she’s going to use a third party delivery. But that doesn’t mean Ryou isn’t on edge.

Ryou pulls his scarf up higher, just to make sure it’s still covering his scar. Both hands are covered in thick gloves, but he can’t help but fear that the prosthetic is obvious anyway.

It’s just him and Matt here, after all. No lion, no castle. Backup is a solid hour away at best.

None of which Shiro had liked. But Voltron was needed on missions - and extremely distinctive. The last thing they needed was for a lion to land nearby and give his target the chance to scurry off and hide.

This isn’t a fight. At least, hopefully not. A simple fact-finding mission. The exact sort Pidge had done herself while looking for Matt.

Finally, when he’s satisfied there are no empire soldiers nearby, and that they don’t have a tail, Ryou leads them toward the building itself. The door is grimy, rusted metal, and there’s no sign to indicate this is a place of business.

You either know, or you go away. That’s how half the businesses on this planet operate.

Ryou gives Matt a quick glance to make sure he’s ready. He gets another of those casual eye-crinkle smiles back. Below that, though, Matt’s eyes are hard. His shoulders are set, tilted back and ready to grab his staff if needed.

Ready, then.

Ryou pulls open the door and walks inside, chin held high. The store inside has several shelves, most of which are half-empty, and the rest seem to be a collection of junk. 

The vendor sits behind their desk, loudly chewing on some sort of dried meat. He’s Galra, nearly as tall and furry as Sendak, but decidedly softer in the gut and face.

As they approach, the vendor freezes mid-bite. He shoves the rest of his jerky in his mouth, then plasters on a smarmy looking smile, leaning over his side of the desk. “Welcome to my humble little shop. Are you browsing, or here for something specific?”

“What’s there to browse?” Matt asks flatly, looking over the half-empty shelves. He critically eyes the random assortment that is available.

The vendor gives a strained chuckle, barely bothering to sound polite. “I specialize more in recovering items than on-hand stock. More specific equipment, you understand.”

On a good day, Ryou would play along with this chatter. Smile right back, just as fanged, and string the vendor along for information - the way Matt is doing.

Today is not a good day.

So Ryou steps up, getting right to the edge of the desk. Even standing he’s only barely taller than the sitting Galra, but he’s pretty good at looming anyway. “We’re looking for Lantean crystals,” he says, low and sharp.

Immediately, the affable posture falls away. The Galra’s eyes gleam as his smile grows - the look of a man who knows he can set whatever price he wants. “Interesting. Lantean crystals? Those don’t go around often, you know.”

“Do you have them or not?”

The vendor holds up his hands, revealing that several of his fingers are prosthetics. It’s a tossup if he lost them to equipment or unhappy clients. “Not on hand. I don’t keep much of anything in stock. But I can get you some. It’ll cost you, though. Those things are getting mighty popular. I already used up my latest source.”

Ryou’s heart stops.

There’s another buyer. Someone getting enough quantities to buy out the previous stock.

_ Haggar. _

Before Ryou can even open his mouth, Matt sides up. He leans his hip against the desk and crosses his arms, posture friendly and easy. “Come on, we can’t have come all this way to find out you’re sold out. We’re on a deadline, here.”

The vendor shrugs, looking utterly unconcerned. “Hey, I don’t make these things grow. I just pick up what’s already out there, and the pickings are slim, now. Shoulda bought ‘em earlier if you needed ‘em that bad.”

“Well, maybe we can make us both happy anyway.” Matt pulls out a couple of GAC bills, flashing them to show just the not-insubstantial numbers. “Sounds like someone else has what we need. You tell us their name and where to find them, and we’ll make it worth your time.”

The Galra’s eyes snap to the bills, his big, fluffy ears standing up. He stays stock still. Then, he turns away with a scowl. “Not how I do business.”

“Are you sure?” Matt casually fans himself with the bills, his smile growing. “I think this is being very generous, don’t you?”

“My clients know I respect their privacy,” he says sharply - practiced, too. It’s probably what he says to whatever law enforcement exists on this planet. “Look, I’ll ask around for a faster shipment, alright? It’ll cost you, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Ryou leans forward, narrowing his eyes. He catches the vendor’s gaze, who yanks back away from him. “I don’t give a damn about the crystals,” he growls. “Who bought the last shipment?”

The vendor’s eyes go wide, and then his smile becomes sly. “Ah, so that’s what you’re really after. Nah, tough shit. Go bother someone else.”

“This is important,” Matt says, his friendly tone melting away completely. He tucks the money back away, head cocked to the side. “Universe important. And personally important. Last chance for us to play nice.” He pulls a coalition insignia out of his pocket and holds it out in his palm.

Ryou glances at Matt, his brows going up. He’s bigger and tougher than he used to be, but Ryou was expecting to have to explain himself later. Not for Matt to be the one escalating.

The vendor looks between them both, clearly sizing them up. Then he slowly stands up. “I don’t give a damn who you’re with and why. Get out of my shop.”

Ryou straightens up too, not caring that he has to crane his head up to meet this guy’s face. He gives one last glance to Matt, making sure he’s ready to throw down. After all, this is a lead to Haggar, but fighting a private citizen for personal shipping records is a little outside of Voltron’s norm.

But apparently not  _ coalition _ norms, because Matt only gives an exaggerated sigh. “Okay. Hardball then. Good.”

With that, Matt whips his staff off his back and jabs the end of it right into the vendor’s neck. The force of the impact sends him stumbling backward, clutching his throat and wheezing.

Matt casually vaults over the desk and sits on the other side. He keeps his staff out, but laying over his lap as he kicks his legs. “So, you’ve limited your options here, buddy. Now there’s two. You tell us what we want, free of charge. Or I get it out of your system, and my friend here keeps you company.” He gestures widely at Ryou, eyes sharp. “What do you think?”

Finally, the vendor straightens. His neck bulges as he bares his long teeth, eyes nearly glowing with rage. “I’ve got a third option,” he spits out, voice strained from the impact.

He reels back and throws a punch, his huge fist going right to Matt’s face.

Ryou reaches out and catches it in his right hand. It stops a few inches from impacting Matt’s head. Then he wraps his metal fingers around and squeezes.

Matt doesn’t even flinch from the near-strike. Just continues to smile as Ryou slowly increases the pressure. “What do you say, friend?”

The vendor tries to yank his hand back, panic coming over his face. He grabs his elbow and heaves backward. But Ryou’s used to far tougher opponents, and the hand doesn’t budge.

“Fine!” The Galra manages, his voice shaking. “I’ll tell you. I don’t know who they are - I just got an address and a payment. I don’t ask questions, alright?”

Matt hums consideringly. “Hm, that’s sure disappointing. Are you sure that’s all you got?”

Ryou squeezes harder. Something in the Galra’s hand pops. Not broken, but certainly threatening it.

The vendor whimpers and shuts his eyes hard. “I swear! I swear that’s all I know. I’ll give you the address, just let me go!”

Matt continues to stare, eyes hard. Then he gives a tiny nod. “I think we understand each other. You can let him go, X-23.”

The nickname is odd, but Ryou doesn’t blink. He lets go, though he stays hovering by Matt’s shoulder, ready to defend or attack if need be.

He needn’t have worried. Immediately, the Galra dives for a flash drive and downloads the information in, wincing whenever he has to use his right hand. But clearly it’s functional, just sore, so Ryou doesn’t bother to feel bad.

He’d do far, far worse than this to find Haggar.

All the better than Shiro didn’t come along. He has plenty of reason to want to find Haggar too, but a self-imposed moral obligation to do the right thing. To be the better man, worthy of the Black Paladin title.

Ryou doesn’t.

“Here,” the vendor says, giving Matt the information. “Just don’t tell anybody where you got this, alright?”

“Of course. That’s just good business.” Matt gives a wink, then climbs back over the desk. “I sincerely hope this information is good. Or else we’ll be back.”

“It’s all I know,” the vendor says. He clutches his hand to his chest. Now that he has some distance from them both, he’s regained some of his fire. “You can come back but you won’t get more.”

Matt shrugs. “We’ll see.” With a wave, he heads for the door, Ryou on his tail.

Once they’re outside, they stay quiet by mutual, unspoken agreement. They head back the way they came, following the same long path back to the ship - just in case. No sense bringing a tail back with them.

“You did good,” Matt says, handing over the file. “I wasn’t sure how we were going to play that. But you’re great muscle. That was fun.”

“I wasn’t sure either,” Ryou admits. “I was just going to fight him if I needed to. You played it smart. Seems like you’ve had practice at it.”

Matt laughs, head thrown back. His hands slide back into his pockets, still oh-so-comfortable on these grimy streets. Apparently it isn’t all an act - he really does know his way around these kinds of businesses, just maybe not on this particular planet.

“I got the bounty on my head the old fashioned way,” Matt says, shrugging one shoulder. “Not like you guys with your fancy ships. Mine took good leg work.”

Ryou shakes his head, finally cracking a real smile. His first all day. “Yeah, we’re real layabouts.”

“I know, right? You have it so easy.” Matt knocks their shoulders together. Ryou resists the impact, then smacks him back harder, just to watch him stumble.

They continue on in amicable silence.

Then Ryou glances sideways at Matt. “But we’re never telling the team how we got this info, right?”

“Oh, hell no.”

“Good. Just checking.”

***

Ryou strandles his chair backward, chin on the headrest and arms wrapped around the back. The control room is full of the whole team, all of whom are watching Pidge work through the data Ryou and Matt brought back.

He can’t stop himself from staring at the projection of the universe, eyes darting from one shining planet to another. All of him is focused in, like a bloodhound on the scent.

This is the best lead they’ve had to Haggar in weeks. And it’s specifically to do with clones - either maintaining the ones she has or making more.

Either is more than enough reason to find her and  _ end _ this.

“I’m going to warn you now,” Pidge says. “This isn’t as simple as getting a forwarding address. These crystals changed hands a few times, and we’re trusting the data in all these companies to be both honest and inputted accurately.”

“We know it’s a long shot,” Shiro says, nodding to her. His tone is gentle, but his eyes are just as hard as Ryou’s. “No one will be upset with you if this trail doesn’t lead anywhere.”

Pidge snorts. “I will be,” she says flatly. “I just don’t want to get everyone’s hopes up.”

Shuddering, Hunk crosses his arms over his chest as if to ward off a chill. “Trust me, the feeling I have right now is nothing close to hope.”

“Oh, come on,” Ryou says. There’s a laugh in his voice, but it’s not a kind one. He feels like he could grow fangs and claws right now, just from the  _ idea _ of finally getting to fight Haggar. Like he could turn into a wild animal and claw her to death. “Think about how satisfying it’ll be to punch her after all she’s done.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Shiro nods to Pidge, who continues to mark a glowing path through the universe.

Allura nods firmly. “I agree.” Her arms are folded back and her lips are pressed tight. She doesn’t look nearly as eager to fight as Ryou feels. 

That’s not surprising - of everyone, Allura will feel the most responsible for countering Haggar’s magic. That’s a tall order for anybody, much less someone whose only had months to practice.

Maybe they’re not ready. But Ryou doesn’t  _ care. _ He wants his shot at Haggar. This could be the dumbest idea in the world, and he’d still go in swinging.

“Okay,” Pidge says, stepping back. The glittering projection of planets goes still, with one centered right in front of her. It shines brighter than the rest. “This is where the last known delivery stopped. This planet is called...” she pauses and checks her laptop, then frowns. “It doesn’t even have a name. Just coordinates. I don’t think it’s inhabited at all.”

“Sounds like a good place to hide out if your empire fell apart and you don’t want anyone to interfere with your freaky magic stuff,” Lance says. He takes a casual step to the left, which puts him within arms length of Ryou.

Hovering. Worried. He assumes most of the team is, for him and for Shiro. After all, they both have very personal vendettas against Haggar.

Let them worry. Ryou isn’t. There’s no room for that. All Ryou can feel is the desire to see Haggar bleed.

His left hand flexes, automatically seeking the yellow bayard and the claws it can make. Or maybe that bladed weapon. It would be poetic justice to kill her with the arena’s weapon, from the very place she picked out Shiro.

Haggar will be cut for every way she violated Shiro’s body, every clone she made and discarded, for every sleepless night Ryou has stayed up worrying about what she broke inside him.

“Then we have a place to start,” Shiro says, straightening up. He stares at the little glowing representation of the unnamed planet, then turns to the rest of the team. “Be ready to go tomorrow.”

Ryou’s mouth drops open and his head snaps up. “What?” Tomorrow?  _ Tomorrow? _ They’re not going to go after Haggar now?

Shiro’s brows rise up. “The rest of us just finished a mission, and you only got back a couple of hours ago. Haggar is not an opponent to rush into. I want everyone rested and prepared as much as possible.” He gives Allura a nod, who takes a deep, bracing breath.

That-

It makes sense. Ryou knows it’s a reasonable decision. But he still can’t believe what he’s hearing. They could be stopping Haggar now. Who knows what damage she can do in the next day? And doesn’t Shiro want to see her dead?

Keith’s eyes flicker between both of them. He crosses his arms. “We’re just as likely to find another trail as Haggar herself. We should be ready for this to take a while. Haggar has never been easy.”

The tone is neutral, like he’s talking to the whole group. But Ryou knows damn well the comment is for him. He bristles and only resists the urge to snap back because he doesn’t have a good response. 

“So take the time you need. Rest up. Be prepared for anything-” Shiro cuts off as Ryou suddenly stands. “What are you...?”

His voice fades as Ryou walks out the door without a backwards glance.

Rest. Sure. Ryou’s going to go take a cozy little nap. Maybe play a few games, go watch a movie. Like Haggar isn’t within his reach.

It’s tempting to cut out all this waiting shit. He can access the files himself. Now that he’s seen Pidge go through them, he can follow the same trail. Ryou could go to Yellow and head there right now, damn the consequences.

But two things stop him.

First, Ryou remembers how well his last attempt at a solo-ish assassination went. He fucked everything up and nearly got Lance killed in the process. And that was Terkon. Yes, the bastard was a monster and the source of more than one nightmare. But he’s still nothing compared to the agony Haggar has put both Shiro and Ryou himself through.

Second...

After Terkon, Shiro had said that Ryou had robbed him of his closure. Taken away his chance to decide how to handle his tormentor.

Ryou has many personal bones to pick with Haggar - everything wrong with him is her design. His existence, the pain and confusion, are from her.

But Shiro has skin in the game. It’s not right for Ryou to run off and face her alone. Shiro deserves the same privilege. 

So, no, Ryou isn’t going to go off on his own. He’ll wait for tomorrow like everyone else.

That doesn’t mean he has to like it. Or that he’s going to sit around and twiddle his thumbs.

Which means there’s only one place Ryou wants to be.

He heads to the training room.

The yellow bayard is still with Hunk. But that’s fine. Ryou doesn’t need it.

Eyes narrowed, Ryou begins the training bot at level 6. Usually he wouldn’t go so high on his own, but he’s feeling  _ motivated. _

The bot forms and comes out swinging. It moves quickly, anticipating the opponent, and wields a staff larger and heavier than the lower levels. Immediately, it charges Ryou, staff jabbed out to use the long reach against him.

Ryou ducks the blow and ignites his right hand, smacking the staff away. It’s thick and resistant enough that it isn’t immediately cut through, but the force is still enough to move it safely out of the way.

The bot doesn’t stop. It continues to charge, using its superior height and weight against Ryou. It reels back for a blow, unbothered that the first attack was rebuffed.

Ryou ducks below the punch and stabs his own fist at the bot’s stomach. It bends away from the blow, so it only clips the metal side. Then it knees up.

The strike hits Ryou dead in the stomach. He’s lifted off his feet and lands hard on his back. He immediately twists to his left as the staff crashes down where his head used to be.

Clenching his jaw, Ryou scrambles to his feet and throws himself right back at the bot. He leaps, coming from above, and sends a glowing punch down at the bot’s head.

It brings the staff up. Ryou’s fist impacts the metal hard. It bends from the force and heat, but doesn’t break through all the way.

The bot twists, striking Ryou in the shoulder with its elbow. The force sends him to the ground, hard enough that he bounces. He only barely turns off the arm in time to avoid landing directly on it.

Ryou doesn’t react to the pain. He feels it, throbbing in time to his heartbeat. But he doesn’t  _ care. _ It’s better than sitting around uselessly or obsessing over the fight to come.

Ryou kicks hard, lashing out at the bot’s ankle. He gets his first proper hit as the bot teeters dangerously. It has to step back to regain balance. That’s enough time for Ryou to get up and charge, pressing the advantage.

He swings. Once again, the bot blocks, but Ryou activates his hand and hits the weakened bend. This time, it finally gives, cutting right in half.

The bot doesn’t hesitate, instead switching to using the two halves of the staff as clubs. It strikes his shoulder and side, but Ryou doesn’t slow. He continues to push through.

He gets past the weapons and into the bot’s guard. When it tries to grab him, he cuts down, slicing through an elbow. The arm and half-staff fall to the mat uselessly.

Good. Ryou grins, a threatening show of his teeth. That’s what he wanted. To  _ rip something apart. _

He twists again, this time bending his knees at the last moment. His fingers carve a gash through the bot’s left thigh, making it stumble. It lists to the side, no longer able to support weight on that leg. Ryou takes advantage, punching at the stomach, the chest, the other shoulder. Each hit leaves a fist-shaped indent in the shining white metal.

Then, Ryou crowds in close, bending his knees. He punches up with all his might, catching the bot in the chin. The face plate crumples and melts under the force, the whole head snapping back and staying that way. The bot rises up a solid half a foot off the ground before falling to the mat.

Ryou follows. He lands on the chest, bracing with his left hand. Using the right, he continues to strike, over and over, right into the face. The bot goes completely still, all lights off. The face is a half-melted mess, crunched until it’s unrecognizable.

Only then does Ryou hear someone clearing their throat.

He turns, tense, expecting Shiro there and judging. Or maybe Keith, annoyed that Ryou is taking up the training room and being so destructive to the equipment.

Instead, the noise came from Hunk, standing in the doorway. He watches, tense and clearly unhappy, eyes on the remains of the bot. Lance stands just behind him, brows up.

Whistling, Lance leans against the doorframe. “Wow. Did that robot insult your mother or something?”

The mother whose name Ryou didn’t remember because of the shoddy way Haggar put his brain together?

Ryou shrugs and stands up. “Did you need something?” He asks. He knows he’s being short with them for no reason, but he just cannot be bothered with social niceties at the moment. His patience for them wears thin on good days. This is not one of those.

Hunk shifts his weight from foot to foot. He tugs on the bottom of his shirt.

Nervous. Because of Ryou.

Guilt twinges in Ryou’s stomach, but it’s not enough for him to say more.

“I just figured... we still have a little of those meats and oils from the Ssothesse grocery store. After the meeting I didn’t think you’d really be in the mood for goo, and it’s not enough for another full dinner but there’s enough for... I mean, if you wanted-”

Lance sighs and puts his hand on Hunk’s shoulder, squeezing. “Hunk’s trying to say that you should have lunch with us. If you’re done beating in that robot’s face.”

“I might not be,” Ryou says. Despite that, he stands and drops his arm. “I’m not really good company right now. You guys can have that stuff if you want.” 

“It’s for you,” Hunk says, voice firming up. “I mean, I think it’s cool, but I got it for you, Ryou. And you need to eat. Do you want to be hungry tomorrow?”

Dammit, no. Ryou twitches, because he knows he’s being manipulated. But damn if Hunk isn’t right.

Lance nods firmly. “We’re your friends even when you’re in a shitty mood. So come eat with us, alright?”

Ryou hesitates, because... fuck, he’s really not going to be fun right now. No hijinks or jokes. But he should eat, and he knows he’s not really being reasonable at the moment.

If they want to put up with him... well, Ryou’ll let them try. See how long they last.

“Alright.” Ryou eyes the robot flatly, nudging the ruined head with his foot. He should feel bad for destroying the equipment they need, but there are more of the damn things. He’d rather have broken it than someone else.

At least, for today. Tomorrow will be a different story.

“Cool,” Lance says, as if everything is perfectly normal. “Let’s go get set up, then.” Easy as that, he turns and heads for the kitchen, hands in his pocket.

Ryou follows after him and Hunk. He doesn’t speak and he can’t quite keep the aggression out of his posture. He feels less like their friend and more like a tamed predator on a leash. Contained at the moment, but dangerous if startled..

He doesn’t want to be that way. These are his friends. His family. But Ryou just can’t be that goofy guy right now. This is the limit. And if he can’t be that, and he can’t be Shiro, apparently what’s left behind is a beast.

Apparently unbothered by Ryou’s looming silence, Hunk and Lance chatter as they enter the kitchen. There’s a performative edge, like this is all for Ryou’s benefit, but at least they don’t seem daunted by his quiet presence.

“I’ll set up the heating pad,” Lance offers brightly, already digging out the little metal vat that goes with it.

Hunk snorts as he goes to the cooling chest, pulling out the veggies and meats. “Should I be worried about how excited you are to handle hot oil?”

“No, that’s the thing. Consider.” Lance holds the vat like it’s a holy object. “What if we put cheese in instead?”

Hunk freezes, hand in the fridge. “You want to make Ssothesse food into fondue?”

“I mean, mostly I just want to dip things into melted cheese, and it’s not my fault they eat food that’s good for that.”

Hunk inclines his head, considering. “You make a good point. Who's to to say they wouldn’t add cheese if they had the chance? I don’t think I saw any dairy at their store. Did you notice any when you ate their food?” Hunk turns to Ryou.

Ryou sits down at the table, chin resting over his folded arms. He blinks up at Hunk. “Dunno.” It wasn’t in the little sampler he tried, but he hadn’t been paying attention to what anyone else was eating.

“Hm.” Hunk closes the fridge and taps his chin. “Then again, I’m still not sure how well most aliens would respond to milk. Given the way Allura and Coran reacted, I suspect they don’t have a similar mammalian practice on their planet. And milk is hard to digest if you’re not used to it.”

Lance groans. “Okay, so maybe those aliens wouldn’t eat delicious melted cheeses. But is there a reason we can’t? Why do you make cheese if not for this exact purpose?”

“Because you wanted it on the pasta we made.”

“Okay, but cheese can be more than one thing! That’s the beauty of it!”

Hunk rolls his eyes, but it’s only fond. “Fine. But the oil too. It’s required for some of the aromatics. Remember that this is for Ryou.”

Lance bobs his head agreeably, taking out a second vat. “Totally. I haven’t forgotten. You know I wouldn’t forget you, buddy. But this is important, right?” He gives Ryou a hopeful look.

Despite himself, Ryou’s lip quirks up. He doesn’t want to be cheered up. He wants to go back to beating up robots and working out some nice, misplaced aggression. But dammit, it’s basically impossible not to react to them.

“I don’t have skin in this game,” he reminds Lance. “Cheese doesn’t have much of a smell.”

“Depends on the kind,” Hunk says. “But if it has a strong smell, usually it’s not a great one. So that’s for the best.”

Between the two of them, they get everything set up quickly, placing all the meat, veggies, toppings, and various hot liquids in the middle of the table. Hunk didn’t pick up any of the Ssothesse utensils, but they have skewers which work well - and, yes, adds to Lance’s fondue comparison.

Ryou chews mechanically, eating more for the fuel than for the pleasure. But the experience of eating this kind of food is always more pleasant. The aliens who created the style of food prep have very few taste buds, so it’s made for beings like Ryou - enjoyed for the other senses more than taste. Even hastily prepped, the colors are pleasing, the scents are nice, and the texture is varied.

So despite himself, Ryou perks up. Food was a good idea.

It’s the company, though, that’s really pulling him out of his funk.

“Okay, okay, let’s try this next,” Hunk says. He dips a piece of meat in the oil, just long enough to cook through and smell delicious. Then he drops it onto his plate and piles on a crisp, green bean-like veggie, sprinkling it with a crunchy topping. Then he rolls it all back up, holds it delicately between his fingers, and takes a bite. “Mmm.”

Lance watches, head cocked. Then he takes another piece of meat and dunks it in the hot cheese.

Pouting, Hunk sticks his nose in the air. “Fine. Don’t try this. Even if it’s tasty.”

“Oh, I still am.” Lance says cheerfully, pulling out the now cheese drenched meat to check how cooked it is.

“But you-” Hunk’s mouth drops open as Lance starts to copy him, only with hot, melted cheese all over his meat. “Lance! That’s gross!”

“No grosser than oil.” Lance takes a bite, unbothered by the cheese dripping down his fingers. “Bet it tastes better, too.”

Hunk’s nose wrinkles as he shakes his head. “You’re going to get sticky.”

Lance meets his eyes directly, then licks a drip of cheese directly off his hand. “Fixed it.”

“Ugh!”

“It’s good and you know it.” Lance sends Ryou a shining smile. “C’mon, you know you want to try my way.”

Ryou shakes his head, but the smile grows a little wider. “I really don’t.” He picks up one of the beans and crunches it on it’s own, just for the sound.

“My genius continues to go unrecognized. You’ll all learn the error of your ways.”

While Lance continues to lick up his messy hands, Hunk turns to Ryou. He eyes him for a moment, then gives a little smile. “Things are easier to handle with a full stomach, right?”

Ryou pauses, caught. Then he looks away and shrugs. “Superficially.” Nothing has really changed. Ryou still wants to hit things, and he still feels like a wild animal about to be uncaged. He feels better for the moment, but how long will that last?

Lance finally uses his damn napkin to wipe his hands clean. “Sometimes it’s enough just to feel a little better for a bit,” he says, shrugging. “This isn’t going to fix anything, obviously. But at least you seem calmer.”

“I appreciate you guys trying to help.” Ryou drops his skewer and folds his arms over the table again. “It’s nice of you. I just don’t think I can be helped today.”

The pair of them share a glance. “We just don’t want you to burn yourself out or get hurt before we even get to the planet,” Hunk says. “If this helped a little, it was worth it. But if there’s something else we can do, just say so. Would having Shiro around help?”

Ryou lets out a dark little bark of laughter. “No, I don’t think it would. We’d probably just fight.” It’s been a bit since they’ve really had it out with each other. Right now, Ryou wouldn’t be able to resist pressing Shiro’s buttons in the worst way, and Shiro won’t have the patience to handle that. 

Then again, Shiro might be up for a brawl. It’s been even longer since they’ve duked it out properly. Ryou will lose - the way he was built just doesn’t match up. But that won’t stop it from being  _ satisfying. _

Still, it’s a bad idea and Ryou knows it. The best thing they can do is keep out of each other’s way right now.

“Thank you, though. Seriously. I don’t want to mess up our chances tomorrow either.” Ryou runs his fingers through his hair. He just dyed it a week ago, so he’s not in need of a touch-up. Which is a shame, because it would actually be a good way to distract himself. “I’ll keep out of the training room for the day.”

“Probably smart,” Lance allows. “We’re around if you need us. For any reason. Even if it’s just to be in the same room.”

...What do they think Ryou’s about to do, exactly?

Well, after seeing that fight with the training bot, especially at that level, maybe it’s not unreasonable to think he’ll hurt himself.

But he won’t. Not more than a bruise or two. Nothing that’ll affect his chances tomorrow on the real opponent.

Ryou stands and puts his dishes away to be cleaned. “Thanks for lunch, you two. It was good. But I think I’m going to stick to my room for the rest of the day.” That way, he can fume without worrying anyone.

“Okay. Call if you need us,” Hunk says. But the tense shine in his eyes says he knows Ryou won’t use it.

“I will,” Ryou lies. He gives them both a ragged smile and stalks off to his room.

Once inside, Ryou tries to distract himself. He reads for a few minutes. Toys with his projects. 

In the end, though, he ends up pulling up the projection of that unnamed little planet. He leaves it shining in the middle of his room as he paces in slow circles around it. A stalking predator.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he’ll be the one doing the hunting.

For once, Ryou will be the one in control. He swears it.


	2. Chapter 2

From orbit, the unnamed planet is a tiny, barren chunk of ice and rock. It exists on the farthest reaches of the local star’s gravitational pull. The whole thing is barely larger than Earth’s moon.

“You know,” Pidge says thoughtfully, leaning forward toward the viewport. Her eyes shine with vicious strategy. “We really don’t have to get much closer than this, do we? What if we just... unleashed on this thing. Voltron and the castle together. I bet we could blow the whole thing up from here, right?”

Ryou’s jaw clenches and his stomach sinks. 

It’s true, and it might be the smartest strategy. Not even engage, just take her on with all guns blazing from the farthest possible distance. Even Haggar couldn’t survive that, could she?

But Ryou hates the idea. Vehemently. He wants the fight, wants the sense of victory. To see the panic in Haggar’s eyes, the knowledge that the people she hurt are the ones who will end her. 

“No,” Shiro says firmly. He crosses his arms, head held high. “We don’t know what else is on this planet. Or who else.”

“We don’t even know she’s here,” Keith reminds, louder than he did yesterday. “This could be our best clue to find her before she strikes again, and we’ll just destroy it.”

“And we came here because of the crystals for cloning pods,” Lance adds, whirling on Pidge. “Even if she’s down there and vulnerable, it’s not fair to just blow them up without a chance too.”

Shiro nods sharply toward Lance. The glowing view of the planet highlights the lines of his face, revealing the tension he’s trying to keep contained. From the upcoming fight, yes, but also something like worry.

If Haggar has more clones, Shiro wants to save them. He wants to offer them another chance in the hopes they’ll come out like Ryou.

Not that Ryou feels particularly like a functional member of the team right now.

Besides, Ryou knows how hard it is to step out from Shiro’s unintentional shadow. How much painstaking, gut-wrenching work it takes to rewrite himself into a new person. The sheer shock of finding out he’s not who his memories say, or picking himself back up and carving a new path.

It was difficult enough when Ryou did it. And he wasn't in Haggar’s claws, being toyed with, for as long as these clones will have been. Who knows what else has been done?

Still, Ryou wants the fight. Desperately. Stupidly. So he keeps quiet and lets the smarter arguments stand.

Pidge stiffens, wrapping his arms around her stomach. “Fine,” she says. “It was just a suggestion.”

“A smart one,” Allura adds. “One that should be brought up. But in these circumstances, we need to understand what we’re dealing with. Coran will still be on the ship. If need be, he can begin an assault until we can form Voltron.”

Coran snaps his heels together and straightens into a salute. “That I can.” On a better day, his tone should have been joking. Today, his eyes are steely and his jaw set.

“Sounds like a plan,” Hunk says. His voice is softer, trying to cut through the tension of the group. “So... are we going?”

“Yes.” Shiro turns to face the group proper, back to the viewport. The reflected shine from the planet lights him from behind, partially turning him into a silhouette. “We’ll take Green for stealth. I don’t want too many lions around Haggar. She has too many tricks up her sleeve. Pidge will land us at the crater nearest the building, and we’ll do our best to sneak in. We want to maintain the element of surprise, but don’t be thrown off if Haggar detects us first. Be ready at all times.”

The team nods, except for Ryou. He hangs a little farther back, arms crossed tightly. Not that he’s not paying attention, or disagrees. He just feels distant from the planning.

Ryou’s going to go along with the team. But he can’t guarantee his actions once (if) they find Haggar.

The trip over is simple. They monitor communications to and from the single, lonely building on the planet. 

It’s barely sixty feet across, not nearly to Haggar’s usual level of resources. But she’s on the run and doesn’t have the entire Empire backing her anymore.

All communications stay silent. There’s no sign of alarm or that they’ve been detected. No ships leave or arrive, no distress calls are sent.

Then again, Haggar has proved that she doesn’t need back-up to be plenty dangerous.

Pidge lands them gently, even daintily. There’s barely a kick-up of snow off the icy planet as Green’s paws settle down. Then they step out. They need to keep their helmets up - this rock is too small to keep an atmosphere, and it makes their communications silent from the outside. It also lacks gravity, which makes moving stealthily difficult.

Something about the helmets and the team’s slow, bobbing movements sends a shiver down Ryou’s spine. He can’t quite pinpoint why.

Shiro motions everyone on, silent despite the stealth of the closed helmets. They do their best to keep themselves low as they creep forward. Below them is ice, not snow, so they don’t leave footprints, but they occasionally have to slow down to keep from slipping.

Shiro gestures Ryou on, but instead he sticks close. They move together at the back of the pack, both watching for danger.

At first, Ryou’s eyes remain locked on the horizon, especially on the tiny building. But habit pulls his attention over to Shiro, checking in on him.

The glass of the helmet and the armor makes his posture difficult to read. But Ryou is an expert, and so he’s able to pick up the stiffness of his limbs, the ramrod straightness of his spine.

Immediately, Ryou’s stomach flips over. He’s been so locked up in his own head that he hasn’t been looking out for Shiro. Yes, his mood has been shit, and he’d assumed Shiro’s was as well, so he’d avoided him. But maybe Shiro hadn’t been aching for a fight. Maybe he’d needed comfort.

Of all people, Ryou should know better than to assume they’re feeling the same way.

So he starts a private communication link with Shiro. “You okay?”

Shiro glances over and snorts, so loudly it echoes in his helmet. “That’s a question.”

Okay, yeah, it was a stupid thing to ask. Ryou shrugs one shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Shiro looks down, focusing on his feet as he steps, then goes back to watching over the team. “Ask me again in five minutes and I’ll have a different answer. It’s... an unusual situation.”

“I’m asking about now.”

Shiro’s head flickers toward him again. His fingers clench into fists as he sighs. “It’s confusing. Right now... I keep thinking about how ironic it is she’s hiding on a planet so similar to Pluto.”

Ryou’s head snaps around, taking in the landscape with new eyes. The planet does indeed have a moon, lump and misshapen from the lack of gravity. It’s tiny and icy, so far from the sun.

That’s what’s been at the back of Ryou’s mind. With the team’s faces obscured and bobbing around in low gravity, it was like being back on Kerberos.

“All the better a place to beat her face in,” Ryou spits out. “As close as we can get to where it all began.”

Shiro pauses mid-step. He continues almost immediately, so quickly that most people wouldn’t catch it. Ryou isn’t most people. “You’re not afraid,” Shiro notes.

“I’m not,” Ryou says, and it’s not bluster. “Stupid as that is. I want this too much to be scared of it. It might hit later, but right now I’m...” He bites back a physical growl. “I’m ready to even the score.”

There’s no response for a long time. Finally, Shiro huffs out a breathy, dark little laugh. “I am too,” he says, and sounds better than before. His posture doesn’t change, but it could just as easily be aggressive as nervous.

Ryou pats him on the shoulder, which both of them can barely feel through the armor. Then he picks up speed, catching up with the rest of the team.

They get to the building without any incident. The lack of any alarm or reaction makes Ryou’s stomach roll. He just doesn’t believe that they’ve totally taken Haggar by surprise. He’d love to see her in shock, but he doesn’t think she’s capable, not really. He’s never known her not to be ready for anything.

Pidge kneels down next to the door and plugs her armor into the locking mechanism. While she works, Ryou takes a moment to look around.

Up close, the building doesn’t seem any bigger. It’s one large square, probably a single room, and a few smaller offshoots - maybe living quarters or just other work spaces. If anything, it reminds Ryou of the old labs set up when humanity was just beginning to land on Mars. A far more advanced version, but the same economy of space, and just as alien on a barren world.

“Got it,” Pidge says. The door opens obligingly a moment later, leading them into the small decompression chamber.

Hunk frowns, his hand coming up to his chest. “That seems really easy,” he points out, voice tight.

“Agreed,” Keith says. He pulls his Mamora blade off his belt. “They might as well have let us in.”

Pidge shrugs as she stands and closes his wrist computer. “I don’t know what to tell you. It wasn’t more difficult than your average Galra ship.”

Which should  _ not _ be the case for Haggar’s personal base.

All heads, Ryou’s included, turn to Shiro.

Shiro stays silent, clearly thinking. “We still don’t know what we’re dealing with,” he says finally. “It wasn’t likely we’d get the element of surprise anyway. Be cautious, and assume she knows we’re coming. Pidge, will she notice that we’re using the decontamination chambers?”

“Anymore than she already has?” She drawls out flatly. “No, I turned off the notification to the main console. Unless she’s right outside waiting for us, she won’t know.”

Which isn’t unlikely, given that the building is so small.

Lance makes a choked noise and brights up his bayard. It forms into the sword, rather than the rifle. “Well, then she better be ready.”

Quiet and tense, the group slips into the chamber, closing the door behind him. Air rushes past as the pressure is equalized, and then the door on the far side opens.

On the other side is a lab. Every inch of the available wall space is covered with computers and equipment. Including the far wall, where every inch is covered in glowing, purple tubes.

In front of them is a robed figure.

Despite all his bluster till now, Ryou freezes. His eyes immediately snap onto the cloning pods, straining to see how many there are, and how many clones look viable.

Except-

All these tubes are bigger. Wider and taller, reaching the ceiling and taking up nearly twice as much space around.

The figures inside are also much bigger than Shiro and Ryou. Most of them are hulking, with proportions that look very little like a human.

The robed figure is in front of one in particular. Their head is small and smooth, their shoulders and arms longer than normal, with thick, nearly stubby legs.

Ryou recognizes them. He would never forget that face.

That’s a clone of  _ Myzax. _

As soon as that clicks, Ryou’s eyes flicker from one figure to the next, taking in their faces.

Yuviex. Garcha. Tadrop. Krosrumu. Tamtropic. Niv.

With only a few exceptions, Ryou recognized every single one from the arena. They were some of the largest, nastiest gladiators with vicious reputations. From the look of the others, they were likely to be the same, just from before or after Shiro’s time.

Automatically, Ryou’s hand settles on Shiro’s back. He’s stiff, and Ryou doesn’t need to look over to see that he’s pale and drawn. He would at least recognize Myzax, and likely some of the rest.

The robed figure continues to work, in the few seconds it takes for them to process. They haven’t looked up, or given any indication that they’ve noticed their new arrivals. 

As they move, Ryou registers their proportions as well. There’s no long white hair, and they stand over a foot taller than himself. They lack the slumped posture, instead standing tall and proud. They’re a druid, but...

“That’s not Haggar,” Shiro says, barely a whisper.

_ Shit. Shit! _

All this. All that work. For someone else completely.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t get something out of this.” With that, Lance flashes his bayard into a rifle. The light illuminates the decompression chamber, if only for a moment, but the flash is also enough to catch the druid’s attention.

Lance fires. The bolt aims straight for the druid, probably toward the shoulder. But they twist to the side. Instead, the blast hits the console, making it spark.

The hood falls back from the sharp movement. The druid whirls to face them, showing a sharp face, with a muzzle and long ears poking out the side of their head. The skin sags without fur, reminding Ryou vaguely of a specific breed of cat back on Earth.

Ryou knows that face. But the memory doesn’t come, sharp and perfect the way Shiro’s downloaded thoughts work. Instead, it’s a creeping familiarity, but distant. Hazy. Mostly forgotten.

Who-?

There’s no time to question. The druid’s eyes go wide in obvious surprise, then turns into a sneer. They bring their hands up, which crackle with light, and then a burst of energy comes out toward all of them.

The team is still crunched together in the small entrance, so there’s not enough room to move. Ryou dives to the ground, automatically reaching up and bringing Shiro down with him. He hears other bodies land around him.

But there’s no impact. Instead, pink light lights up the space. Ryou looks up in time to see Allura with her hands held out. The ball of energy hovers in front of her, shining the same pink as her armor.

Then, it rockets back the way it came, a streak of energy.

The druid yanks their hands sharply to the right. The ball follows, crashing into the floor and exploding into tiny shards. The metal floor below is blackened, a sign of how destructive the original spell would have been.

“How...?” The druid growls out. The voice makes Ryou’s spine stiffen. It sounds like  _ pain _ and he doesn’t remember why. He  _ doesn’t remember, _ and that can only mean-

This is from before Shiro’s memories. The few moments of consciousness he had before a new mind was put inside his brain.

This druid helped build and create Ryou. He might not be Haggar, but he’s responsible for Ryou’s suffering just the same.

Shaking his head (and Ryou  _ knows _ it’s ‘he’), the druid scoffs and turns to another console. A few swift button presses makes the closest several pods light up. The purple fluid drains away, shockingly quickly, and the glass slides open.

The figures inside slump against the walls. Their eyes open. All of them have glowing purple eyes, like the Beta Traz warden.

Quintessence. These clones have been pumped full of it, just like that warden had done.

“Get them!” The druid snaps. Then his hands come up like he’s about to cast. But he’s not making the same aggressive motions as before. Instead, he’s backing up. Trying to get away. 

He wants to escape, and the spell is probably to help that.

_ “No!” _ The word bursts out of Ryou, ripped from his soul. He scrambles to his feet and sprints into the lab, too fast for anyone to react.

Yes, it puts him closer to a bunch of clones who are clearly being made into weapons. 

Ryou  _ does not care. _ He’s not letting this druid get away without a fight.

He’s not fast enough, though. The druid finishes his hand movements, a smirk on his wrinkled face.

Only for there to be another flash of pink light from behind. The energy gathering in the druid’s hand abruptly fizzles out.

His face falls as whatever magic he was doing fails. Whatever it was, Allura countered it.

Which means he has no defense as Ryou leaps directly at him.

Ryou full on spear tackles the druid, sending them both tumbling to the metal ground. He lands on top, by virtue of being prepared for the impact, and shoves him flat. 

He turns to catch Keith’s eye as the clones start to stumble forward. “Watch out for Shiro!” He calls.

Keith’s jaw sets - clearly, he hadn’t planned for anything else. But his eyes flicker over to Shiro, whose eyes are wide and his face is pale. Then the meaning of the request lands. He nods firmly, stepping back so they’re shoulder to shoulder. Shiro doesn’t react.

Okay. There’s no one better to keep Shiro safe. The original gladiators are dangerous, and who knows what kind of control the druid has on them. But Keith can handle himself, and he’ll make sure Shiro isn’t harmed even when he freezes.

Meanwhile-

Ryou is lifted up - not by magic, but by the pure strength of the Galra below him. Before he can react, he’s smashed to the ground, the druid effortlessly holding him down.

Somehow, Ryou always thought of the druids as physically weaker. Maybe it’s Haggar’s deceptively aged form. She can lift Shiro with one hand, after all. But it just seems  _ fair. _ Anyone magically powerful shouldn’t be physically strong as well.

He should know better. Not only is he friends with an obvious exception to that rule, there’s no such thing as fair.

The druid’s grip settles on Ryou’s throat, squeezing tight - not enough to cut off his air, but a threat. With the other, he takes Ryou’s helmet off and sneers down at him.

“They kept you?” He asks. His eyes flicker up and down Ryou’s form, nose wrinkling further in obvious disdain. “I can’t imagine why they bother. Pity? A broken specimen like you should have been properly disposed of pheobs ago.”

Ryou’s heart aches. Much as he hates this bastard, much as he was ready to see him a bloody heap on the ground, the words still manage to hurt.

This being helped create him. And that’s how he sees Ryou.

A second later, sense returns. Ryou snarls up at him, wordless and choked. He squirms up until he can get his legs between them, then kicks up  _ hard. _ It catches the druid, shoving him away and yanking his grip loose.

The druid doesn’t go as far as Ryou would have liked - his size makes him too heavy for that. But it still gives him the break he needs to climb to his feet and activate his arm, blazing the light blue of the caste.

It also gives him a chance to look over at the battle around him. Myzax is in the center of the lab, taking huge, powerful swings at Lance, Hunk and Pidge. The three of them dive to get out of the way. While he lacks the energy weapon of before, and therefore the range, that doesn’t matter - the lab is too close quarters to need it.

Lance rolls, shifting his bayard yet again to the sword. He takes a swipe at Myzax’s calf and scores a hit, but the cut doesn’t seem to phase him at all. Lance stands, looking off put at the complete lack of reaction.

Hunk brings his bayard up, using the physical heft of it as a makeshift shield. He’s the closest to Myzax, and the obvious target. The clone is faster than his original, probably from that quintessence in his system. Hunk has no pause to get away or return the attack. His eyes are wide, but with determination rather than fear.

Pidge shoots her bayard up, hooking the lighting fixture above. She swings off of it and lands on Myzax’s back, crying out her fury as she raises her arm up to attack. It’s not clear if she knows this is the clone of the gladiator who would have killed her brother, but she’s furious all the same. But Myzax reaches up and grabs her, tiny in his huge hands, and throws her to the ground in a heap.

Meanwhile, Allura has her whip out, using it to keep Niv away. She’s the smallest of the gladiators, but still a solid two feet taller than Ryou and broader. Her fur is bristled, making her seem even larger, and she lashes out like a wild cat, teeth bared.

And back at the entrance, Keith has his Mamora blade out, blocking a blow from Garcha. The huge, scaled beast bites down on the blade and shakes their head like a dog with a bone. The grip is ripped from Keith’s grasp, and the weapon is tossed aside. Garcha’s mouth drips thick, black blood as they continue to move forward.

Shiro stands behind Keith, arm up, but he flinches back from a blow that hasn’t come yet. Even from here, Ryou can see the way he’s shaking with each breath, and now distant his gaze is.

His brother is suffering, attacked by literal ghosts of his past. Ryou needs to-

The distraction lasts only a few seconds, but it’s more than enough for the druid to send out another blast. This one catches Ryou in the chest. He goes flying backward and hits one of the tanks hard. 

The pod, still full, cracks from the impact. The purple liquid begins to leak out, dripping down Ryou’s back.

A chemical smell hits Ryou. It’s thick and acrid, and brings him back to Shiro’s biology lessons. Formaldehyde.

Pushing aside a sudden wave of shivers, Ryou shoves himself back to his feet and charges. His arm is still lit, and he strikes toward the druid. He ducks his blow with ease, as well as the next.

“This is the replacement for Haggar’s work?” The druid says, watching the shining blue arch o Ryou’s prosthesis without an ounce of fear. “A pathetic copy. The quintessence output is barely half of the other prosthesis. It has a delayed reaction time as well. Shoddy. Or is that because of you?”

Oh, Ryou is going to kill this bastard.

Snarling wordlessly yet again, Ryou jabs and twists, trying desperately to catch the druid off balance. He continues to dance around the blows, downright graceful. It’s like he can predict every move.

Because he can. In his anger, Ryou is fighting like  _ Shiro. _

Behind him, there’s a blast of energy and a roar of fury. Ryou can’t spare a look backward. Instead, he steels himself. He’s going to finish this so he can help his team.

The way to do that is to fight like  _ himself. _

So Ryou makes to jab forward, aiming slightly to the right. Like smug clockwork, the druid dodges to the left, unimpressed as ever.

Until Ryou activates his shield and swings it, right into the space the druid was moving to.

The shield impacts hard, finally knocking off that superior expression. The druid hits the ground in a heap, skidding several feet from the force.

Ryou presses the advance, landing on top of him knees first. It forces the air out of his lungs with a pained wheeze. Then, hand still burning, he grabs onto one of the druid’s wrists and pins it down.

The robes and skin sizzle under his touch. The druid lets out a cry, then grinds their teeth against more. Yellow eyes meet Ryou’s, blazing with hatred and fury.

Ryou grins back, all teeth. “Shut the fuck up, already.”

Another blast catches his attention. Ryou glances up instinctively. Myzax is on the ground now, Pidge’s bayard wrapped around his neck. He’s limp, either strangled or tazed. Regardless, he’s out for the count.

The attack he heard was Hunk unleashing on Niv. She took the hit dead on, hitting the doorframe to one of the other rooms. She goes down as well, and Allura takes the opportunity to tie her up.

Lance, meanwhile, has spun to help out Keith and Shiro. His shots hit the spiked back. The attack does minimal damage, but it’s enough to make Garcha turn to growl at him. 

The distraction is enough for Keith to grab the Black Bayard from Shiro’s hip and slice clean into the beast’s neck, cutting through the thick, armored hide. 

Once it’s vulnerable, Shiro snaps back to himself (or maybe doesn’t). He steps forward, arm blazing bright purple, and jams his hand into the wounded throat. Garcha gargles, yanking itself away. But the damage is too great. It slumps to the ground, twitching and bleeding out.

Shiro stands over Garcha for a second time, breathing heavily, covered in gore from the elbow down.

He’s physically unharmed. And that’s all Ryou can ask for right now.

The druid winces, expression twisted in worsening pain. He tries to yank away, but it only hurts his wrist worse.

“Trade,” he croaks out. “Information. On your clone. Call it off.”

He doesn’t say it to Ryou. He says it to the team.

Ryou tightens his grip. His pulse pounds in his ears, drowning out the rest of the druid’s words. All he can focus on is his  _ fury _ that even now, even when he’s won the fight, this bastard still sees him as a dog.

More noises. More voices. Ryou doesn’t listen, just continues to crush the wrist in his grasp. He feels bones crack and hopes the heat is leaching into them. Blackening them from the inside.

Then arms gently wrap around Ryou’s waist and lift him up. He kicks and snarls, which does  _ nothing _ to change that animalistic opinion of him.

“Hey,” Hunk says, soft and calm. At least, on the surface. “I don’t like him either. But you might need this.”

Ryou doesn't need  _ anything _ from this son of a bitch. Who cares what he has to say? Ryou’s already a broken, fucked up clone. How much more does he need to hear about it?

But maybe he has information on Haggar. A better target, as much as Ryou wants to rip this bastard’s  _ head off. _

So he settles down, still shaking with rage, but allows Hunk to hold him back. And instead he watches and listens.

Shiro steps over, taking his helmet off as he goes. Ryou knows, intimately, the exhaustion and pain he must be feeling, but his expression is only steely.

The druid, now free of Ryou, sits up. He clutches his mangled, burned wrist, obviously in pain. But his eyes track Shiro’s slow approach without a sound.

Shiro stops in front of him. He looms over the druid, eyes hooded, expression neutral. His gaze is cold, even deadly.

At this moment, Shiro isn’t the Black Paladin. He’s the Champion. And Ryou honestly can’t tell if it’s because of the flashbacks, or if he’s just that pissed.

There’s a beat, as the druid stares up at Shiro, and Shiro looks down his nose at the druid. Everyone else, Ryou included, watches the standoff.

Then, Shiro kicks out, brutally hard. The druid is forced back down, his head cracking against the metal floor. He lets out a cry of pain and surprise, which is cut off when Shiro’s boot steps down right on his throat.

Ryou goes utterly slack, his throat tight. Only Hunk’s firm grip around his middle keeps him upright.

“Just what information do you have that you think is worth your life?” Shiro asks icily. He lets up the pressure, enough that the druid stops choking. But Keith steps up by his side, blade out and dripping dark gore. 

The druid’s eyes flicker to Ryou, sharp and assessing, before returning to Shiro. “You kept it. I assume you care how it was built.”

It.

Ryou jerks forward again on pure, furious instinct. Hunk’s arms hold strong, and he stops fighting. He once again sags in place.

Shiro’s expression doesn’t change at all. He gives nothing away behind his cold, dark eyes. Keith shifts in place, grip adjusting on his sword, but otherwise doesn’t react.

Ryou doesn’t look over at the others. That would require him drag his eyes away from the confrontation between one of his creators and his original. He doesn’t want to see, anyway.

“Why make him?” 

The question doesn’t come from Shiro, but from Allura. Her eyes flicker between the two, but she stands tall and regular. Both her hands remain up, a faint flicker of pink occasionally darting around her fingers. Most likely, she’s ready to counter anything the druid tries.

Their captive glares at her, with more vitriol than he’s ever shown Ryou. He looks down to her hands with fury, before meeting her gaze again. “There were several reasons. They changed.”

“Then start from the beginning,” Pidge says darkly. Ryou doesn’t look over, but he can hear the soul-deep venom in her voice.

The druid takes a deep breath, arching to get Shiro’s boot to loosen again. It doesn’t work, and he goes limp with a sigh. “Originally, the plan was simple. Galra armies are strong, but our numbers slowly dwindle over the centuries. Our population doesn’t increase fast enough to offset our losses. Haggar wished to create a new kind of soldier. One who could be unleashed without caring for the loss, but who would be just as effective. Cloning was the answer, and we had ample test subjections.”

“The arena,” Shiro finishes, still icily calm. Not even his fingers twitch.

The druid tries to nod, only to cough. “Yes. Haggar began to pick from the gladiators. Those who seemed most able to survive and adapt were best. Or simply the most brutal. She picked favorites, on occasion. You would be familiar with that.”

Shiro doesn’t react, hopefully because he doesn’t remember.

Ryou slams his eyes shut, because he  _ does. _ With crystal clarity.

“We worked on perfecting the process. It was... less than ideal. Random. The clones we made had defects. Physical imperfections that kept them from fulfilling their purpose, or even surviving. I wanted to pause the program. Focus on the issues in the growing process. But then you escaped.”

The druid spits the words out, hatred leaking into his voice. His yellow eyes shine, looking right into Shiro’s face like he’d like nothing more than to tear it off.

Keith steps forward, pointedly raising his blade.

The druid snaps his head away, eyes narrow. He winces as his wrist shifts slightly, but otherwise doesn’t react to what must have been agony. “You left. Found your little team. And Haggar went from interested to obsessed. You were no longer just a subject, but the Black Paladin. The clones weren’t just footsoldiers. Now they were tools against  _ Voltron.” _ The name came out mockingly.

A faint click draws the druid’s attention. He looks to see Lance idly resetting his rifle, his blue eyes icy. “I’d lay off the sass if I were you. I’m getting  _ really _ tired of it.”

“Agreed,” Pidge says. She leans forward, eyes feverish behind her glasses. The violence in her posture is close to what Ryou feels, despite still being limp.

The druid narrows his eyes at them, working his muzzle in dislike. Then he gives a tiny, jerky nod, the best he can do with Shiro’s boot still on his throat. “The hope, then, became to insert her own agent. Capture the Black Paladin or kill him. Introduce her version, and let him act as her eyes and ears. A spy from the very head of Voltron.”

“But I wasn’t,” Ryou says. He looks at Shiro’s boot rather than the druid’s face. “I was found out quickly.”

He doesn’t say what he suspects - what he’s always suspected, since he was able to look back with a clear head. But he braces himself anyway.

The druid snorts, utter disdain dipping from his voice. “You? You weren’t our spy, no. You were a test. You were merely the first to have enough working parts to observe in a working environment. We let you free to see how long you would survive. And instead you crawled away like an insect and gave away the entire plan.” He tries to shake his head, but he can’t with the pressure on his throat.

Hunk growls, low and quiet, against Ryou’s ear. “I’m really tempted to let you go,” he breathes.

Ryou gives a tiny shake of his head. He knew what he was going to hear, but it doesn’t stop his stomach from sinking.

“That’s not to say your close is not built to be a spy,” the druid continues, now turning to Shiro. “I can’t imagine why you keep it around. A decoy, perhaps? Regardless, Haggar built her clones with redundancies. I can’t say how many functioned correctly, but I doubt it’s out of her grasp. You can’t hurt her with her own tools.”

Icy fingers squeeze around Ryou’s heart. He closes his eyes hard and tenses to fight off a tremble.

It’s not a surprise. They know Haggar has ways of getting to him. They’d lived it, when she created the trap that made him a puppet to anyone who spoke the prison dialect.

Yet it’s still horrible confirmation.

Ryou will never be free of Haggar, will he? She made him. She designed him from the ground up. Why would she ever let something run free that could hurt her?

Ryou was always meant to just be their tool.

Just as quickly, that pain catches like a spark on jet fuel. His eyes snap open and he strains, nearly breaking free of Hunk’s grasp completely.

“Fuck you!” Ryou swipes at the air, trying desperately to break free and make this fucker  _ hurt _ the way he’s hurting. Take even a goddamn ounce of the pain inside him and make it physical on someone who  _ deserves _ it. “You smug son of a bitch!”

“A temper, too,” the druid says, head cocked thoughtfully. “Perhaps the aging process did more mental damage than I knew.”

Ryou sees red.

He goes wild, straining to get away and go back to  _ hurting _ the druid. A furious noise, closer to a scream than any words, pours from him as he kicks and flails. His fingers curl into claws, and it’s only the half-aware knowledge that he cares for the person holding him that keeps him from turning on his arm.

“I’ll kill you!” Ryou snarls out, the words drawn out from some place deep inside. He’s not thinking them through - not thinking about anything except stopping those words, stopping the truth.

The druid watches dispassionately, as if Ryou’s impotent fit of rage is nothing more than an experiment. “Definitely emotional problems,” he concludes.

Ryou howls again, a beast in the worst ways. “I hate you!” He screams, lightheaded with it - the rage, the pain, the violence. He’s utterly out of control and lost to the whirlwind inside of him. “You took  _ everything  _ from me!”

This being is responsible, nearly as much as Haggar. He’s the one who made Ryou, who put him together then let him lose. Let him believe he was someone to be proud of, a survivor, a paladin, then ripped it all away.

His accomplishments, his titles, his memories, his identity, his family, his friendships, his  _ name. _

Gone. A cruel joke. A mockery, with Ryou as the butt of the joke

And this son of the bitch is the cause.

Distantly, he hears a soft voice speaking to him, the arms closing in tighter to hold back his frantic struggles. Another voice calling his name.

But all he sees is the mocking yellow eyes, watching him with clinical disappointment. Like Ryou is just a long-accepted failure.

“I’m going to  _ fucking kill you!” _

“Ryou!”

The name, barked and low, finally cracks through the haze of rage. Ryou blinks, realizing belatedly that his hair is wild and his cheeks are wet. He’s been crying. Screaming.

In front of everyone.

Reluctantly, his eyes drag up to Shiro, the source of the call.

Shiro watches him. His gaze has softened, but his posture hasn’t.

“Not now,” he says, gentler now.

Ryou stares back. Then he goes utterly limp. Behind him, he hears Hunk give a sign of relief.

He looks down at the floor rather than at anyone else. There’s no good options. Does he meet the gaze of the team, who saw his complete breakdown? Or does he look at his creator, for whom every move is another disappointment?

Ryou closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing.

“I’ve listened to enough of this,” Shiro says, cold and crisp. Without a hint of the unravelling emotion that Ryou has been showing.

Of course he’s not. He’s the original. The guide. Ryou is the flawed copy.

Emotional damage. Hah. Maybe so. It would explain why Ryou has been unable to control himself the past two days.

“You’re going to give Pidge access to your computers. Everything on it. And we’re going to take all of it.” Shiro continues, still that utterly collected tone.

The druid takes a deep breath, or as much as he can. “In return, you leave me and my lab intact.”

“Hell no,” Lance says, immediate and firm.

But Shiro’s voice gets louder, speaking over him. “Agreed.”

Ryou’s eyes open, but he doesn’t bother to protest. He hears Lance’s sharp intake and sees Keith’s frown, but it’s not worth fighting.

This druid was in close, personal contact with Haggar. He worked with her through the entire cloning process. That’s not information they can pass up. It’ll show the process of making Ryou - and all the little issues it created. What they did to Shiro in the process. And, very possibly, clues to where Haggar has gone.

That’s more important than Ryou’s revenge.

So he just watches as the druid nods. He chokes out his password for Pidge to use, and she begins the process of taking everything on his computers.

Hunk shifts his grip. He pulls Ryou back in tighter, half-hug and half-support. “If you say the word, I’ll let you go,” he says, barely loud enough for Ryou to hear.

It’s... tempting. They have what they need.

But the fight has gone out of Ryou. Now he just feels sore. Bruised. He wants to lay down and sleep, not repeat his screaming fit.

Besides, does he really want to give Shiro more reasons to think he’s a problem?

So Ryou shakes his head. Hunk hesitates, then gives him a tiny squeeze in acknowledgement.

“I, for one, would like more of a reason not to end this now,” Allura says. She keeps her hands up, eyes glowing faintly with open threat.

The druid sneers at her once again. “I have no issue with your team. I think you’re foolish to keep around Haggar’s little pet, but you are not my focus.”

“The clones are,” Keith says.

Nodding, the druid follows Keith’s gaze along the wall, then to the ones he unleashed. Garcha is certainly dead, but Niv is only restrained. Myzax... honestly, Ryou’s not sure. He hasn’t moved.

There are half a dozen more in the tubs, undisturbed. Ready for whatever the druid has in store.

“We have the same enemy,” the druid says. “I have a score to settle. Years of my life and my mind were wasted on her obsession. I want revenge as much as you do.”

Ryou barks out a laugh that sounds more than a little unhinged. The druid doesn’t even turn to look at him.

Keith turns to Shiro, something pleading in his expression. Distaste fills his eyes.

Shiro doesn’t meet his gaze. “Pidge?”

“Just about done,” she reports flatly. Apparently she’s going along with this for the moment, but Ryou hears the hint of rebellion in her tone. She’ll have questions later.

Ryou should too. But he just can’t be bothered anymore. The tension in him has snapped, like he was held together by threads. Now he’s in tatters.

“Then let’s go,” Shiro says. He finally takes his boot off the druid’s neck. He takes a deep breath and immediately starts to cradle his mangled wrist. 

“Just like that?” Lance demands. “We take his word on it and just go? After all he’s done?” He grips his bayard hard enough that his knuckles go white, and he looks on the verge of ignoring Shiro and shooting the druid full of holes.

Shiro turns to face him. Ryou can’t see his expression, but whatever it is causes Lance to falter. “Yes. Just like that.”

Hunk slowly adjusts his grip, settling Ryou back on his feet. Ryou regains his balance but doesn’t pull away. Just as well that Hunk doesn’t seem to be willing to let go.

The team starts to move. No one looks happy, but no one objects, either. More than one set of eyes goes to Ryou, and he refuses to look up and meet them.

Head held high, shoulders squared, Shiro waits for Pidge to finish. He murmurs something to her, then puts on his helmet and leads the way out.

They all follow, stepping over the corpse of Garcha on the way out. Ryou chances one more glance back to see the druid staring over his battered lab. He lets out a sigh as the inner door closes, then the outer one opens.

“What the hell, Shiro!” Lance demands, immediately turning on him. Even through his glass, it’s obvious he’s baring his teeth. “You’re just going to let him go? After everything he said?”

“Let’s go,” Shiro says. He gestures everyone on, and stares Lance doesn until he growls but obeys. He gives Pidge an extra squeeze on the shoulder, then matches pace with Hunk, who continues to half-pull Ryou along onto the icy planet.

Keith hovers as well, looking between Shiro and Ryou. “I’m not sure-” he starts, but Shiro holds up a hand and he goes silent.

They walk for about five minutes before Shiro stops and turns. They have enough distance to see the lab in its entirety. From the outside, it’s a barren, simple thing. There’s no sign of what it contains.

“You’re still in?” Shiro asks.

Pidge nods, turning as well. She brings up her wrist, projecting a screen. “Like you asked. What’s the plan?”

“Can you let all the clones free without that druid’s control?”

Pidge goes silent. Then she smiles, wide and vicious behind the glass of her helmet. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Do it.”

With obvious satisfaction, Pidge hits several buttons. “Done.”

Shiro continues to stare at the little lab. There’s no sign from this distance that anything has changed. No sound can travel, no lights flash.

But inside, Ryou can imagine the pandemonium.

In order to fight as effectively as they were, those clones must have the memories of their originals, just like Ryou does. And, to a one, they were all some of the most bloodthirsty, vicious gladiators in the arena.

That druid is going to be ripped to shreds.

“Is... Is that fair?” Hunk winces when the whole team turns to look at him. “Not to him, fuck that guy. To the clones. Maybe they’re different.” He gives Ryou a firm squeeze.

“Then they have a chance,” Ryou says. He goes back to watching the lonely little building. “He has ways of contacting the outside world and getting supplies. He must have a ship somewhere too, big enough to transport his equipment. They have a better chance than I did. Supposing they don’t turn on each other first.”

Shiro nods, holding his chin high. He reaches over and gives Ryou’s shoulder a firm squeeze.

This isn’t Shiro’s style, not really. He prefers an honorable fight, not this karmatic sort of justice. It’s not the kind of person he tries to be - the Black Paladin, not the Champion. The leader, not the survivor.

Yet he’d done it.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Ryou says quietly, staring at Shiro’s face plate.

Shiro gives a tiny smile back. “It was partly for me too.”

Oh. That’s fair. This person was one of the architects of Shiro’s pain, of one of the many great violations done to him. If he wants a bit of vicious revenge, he’s earned it.

The hand on his shoulder moves to the side of his helmet. Shiro tilts Ryou’s head up, so he’s standing tall rather than slumped. “But it was mostly for you,” he adds. “Is it enough? Or do you want to go back?”

Ryou meets Shiro’s gaze, then slowly shakes his head. “It’s enough.”

“Good.”

With that, Shiro turns and heads back toward where they left Green.

Ryou stares after Shiro, heart in his throat. It’s Hunk’s gentle tug that gets his feet moving again.

“Let’s go home,” Shiro says.

Home. That sounds damn good.

Taking a deep, ragged breath, Ryou follows.


	3. Chapter 3

The ride back is quiet. Allura reports to Coran, letting him know they didn’t find Haggar and to prepare for minor injuries. Pidge tells them when they’re taking off and when Green has safely settled into the castle.

That’s all.

Ryou knows he should speak up. He’s usually one of the lighthearted ones, someone who will break the tension with a joke. Considering what just happened, no one else is going to feel comfortable until he does.

But Ryou can’t. He just cannot. The idea of opening his mouth and speaking, much less choosing words that will somehow  _ help _ the situation feels impossibly difficult. The physical effort of speaking alone sounds exhausting.

So instead he stands, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Shiro-like posture, not his own. But Ryou can’t help it. He doesn’t have the energy to help it. 

Once Green’s head lowers to let them out, Ryou turns, still silent, and makes his way out.

Only to have a warm shoulder press into his side, and then a second on the other. Ryou glances over to see Lance looking up at him, wearing a plastered on smile.

Ryou sighs, not even bothering to bite it back.

Lance’s smile falters, but he continues on gamely. “So, uh, I don’t know how you’re feeling, but I was thinking - Hunk and I were thinking... I mean, for a while now. Not just now. But there are some games we found on the ship. Want to play?”

Wincing, Ryou glances over at Hunk’s shy, awkward smile on his other side. He can’t even imagine playing, not right now. “I’m not really...”

“It’ll be fun,” Hunk adds, soft and encouraging. “We found bits and pieces of a few board games, so we were going to mash them up and make up our own rules.”

On any other day, that would be exactly the kind of activity Ryou would love.

Not today.

“I-” Ryou’s voice cracks. He winces and looks down at his feet. The silence of the last half a varga has rusted his throat. “I don’t...”

A hand settles on the middle of Ryou’s back. He starts and cranes his neck around to see Shiro standing behind him. But he’s not looking at Ryou. His eyes move from Lance to Hunk.

“Not today, I don’t think,” Shiro says. Pleasant but final.

Ryou slumps in relief and nods.

Lance hesitates, still knocking their sides together. But finally he steps away. “Yeah, okay. But if you want to join us, you know where to find us.”

“Yeah. We won’t even lie about the rules we make up without you.” Hunk gives a flash of a wider grin, arms folded behind his back. He’s clearly going for humor, though it’s too strained to land.

Ryou nods. “Thanks,” he manages. Then, with a last glance at Shiro, he sets off at a trot. His chest aches from being knocked around, but not nearly bad enough to need medical attention.

There’s only one place Ryou wants to be.

He makes a beeline for his room, then locks the door firmly behind him. Pidge, Hunk, and Coran could probably force it, but he hopes they won’t.

Ryou sits down on the side of his bed, crumpling forward. He rests his forehead in his palms, fingers gripping at the dyed stands.

So many emotions clang around inside of him, all vying for his attention. Pain from his bruises. Pain from the words. Disgust that he cares about the druid’s disappointment. Disgust that he couldn’t maintain control like Shiro did.

Humiliation that he lost it so completely. Ryou let loose things he had never even acknowledged feeling to himself, and now the whole team heard him scream it. While sobbing like a child.

Fuck.

_ You took everything from me. _

Ryou looks around his room. His room, farthest from the lions because he gave up Shiro’s. Because he gave up his position on the team, and he never was given a relationship with Black.

His room is cluttered, filled with  _ things. _ His desk is littered with half-finished projects, most of which he hasn’t touched in weeks. He has photos taped to the wall, showing himself with the individual members of the team. In most, he’s making goofy faces. His dresser has a drawer stuffed with bright clothes he never wears.

All of it together is like a neon sign, desperately flashing.  _ I’m different. I’m Ryou. _ Overcompensation. Bluster.  _ Look how far I’ve come. _

For the team and for himself. A way to reassure everyone that he’s himself now. He’s not Shiro. He was never Shiro. 

But Ryou  _ was _ Shiro. As much as he’s shied away from the idea and fought against anyone who suggested it, that doesn’t change the truth.

However badly, however short a time, Ryou was Shiro, in name and action.. It still feels like more than two decades of his life was as another person. The pilot, the golden boy, the Champion, the Black Paladin.

All of it taken away. One day he woke up and found out he wasn’t. It was a lie.

So he picked himself up, plastered on a smile and moved on. Flinched back from the reminders. Flinched back from his own habits. Flinched back from even comparisons. Rewrote himself from the ground up, with new relationships, new hobbies, new skills. 

He’s never blamed the team or Shiro. Even if Keith’s comments set off the degree of the change, he never pushed back.

How much of it was because they were justified, and how much of it was because he was  _ scared? _

A useless question. Ryou can never go back in time and answer it. Would he be a different person if he’d had the courage to push back and stand up for himself? Probably. After all, he knows a version of ‘Ryou’ who is far more Shiro-like.

That chance is gone, and frankly it always would have been impossible to hold onto being Shiro. There can’t be two. He’s the clone, undeniably. No matter how he felt or what his memories said, he lost. He’s wrong. He’s the one who has to change.

And it turns out, deep inside below the jokes and desperate validation, Ryou is  _ mad _ about it.

It’s not fair. It’s not  _ fair. _

_ You took everything from me. _

Ryou stands up and moves to his desk. He picks up the little toy Voltron and holds it up in his hand. Shiro would understand the basic parts, but not how they’re constructed. Not how they connect and form the whole. He could learn - Ryou is proof - but he simply hasn’t. So Ryou filled the void.

He tosses the toy gently in his hand, feeling the sturdy weight. Remembering the hours of effort it took to machine the parts, learn the functions, trial and error his way into a toy that successfully imitates Voltron.

Then he takes it and hurls it at the wall.

Mini Voltron hits with a crack. Part of the shoulder casing comes free and the tiny shield goes flying to scatter on the floor. It lands at an awkward angle, face against the ground, shoulders twisted behind it, one leg sticking up.

Ryou stares at it, teeth clenched.

Then he turns and sweeps his arms over his desk, shoving every project and screw and mug off. They fall to the ground in a noisy rain, some rolling away, some shattering completely.

Ryou looks down at his cleared desk, breathing rapidly, eyes wild. 

He feels no better.

So he kicks the desk as hard as he can. It actually lifts an inch off the ground before slamming back down.

Ryou, on the other hand, is left with a throbbing foot.

The pain is sharp, and finally he sinks to the ground. He lets his foot ache as he wraps his hands around his head as if to block out the mess of his own room.

The mess that he is.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His voice is wet and shaking. Weak.

All because of the stupid druid. Who  _ cares _ what that bastard thinks? He’s an asshole, cloning arena victims into his personal army. His objection to the plan wasn’t that Haggar’s ideas were evil, but that he thought her prefered victim was the wrong choice.

Physically imperfect. Energy deficient. Emotionally unstable.

Ryou had known. He’s always known. But it’s still different to hear it from the mouth of someone who helped create him.

The closest Ryou has to a father, apparently.

He barks out a wet, ragged laugh and presses his face into his knees.

There’s a knock on the door.

Ryou rubs furiously over his eyes to mop up the tears. He makes no move to get up. “Not really looking for company!” He calls.

“This isn’t a social call,” Shiro replies. His voice is serious, a hint deeper than usual. His mission voice.

Shit. Ryou wipes his eyes again and slowly stands up. He looks back at the mess around his desk and winces before opening the door.

“What’s wrong?” He croaks out. Try as he might, he can’t make his voice even and professional like Shiro’s.

(Emotionally unstable.)

Shiro’s eyes barely flicker over Ryou’s face. His lips press tight (disapproval?) but he shows no other sign of noticing that Ryou is a complete wreck. Instead, he holds up a strange little green sphere. “I need you to take this apart.”

Okay, apparently this isn’t, like, a five alarm emergency. Ryou looks down at the weird little thing. It’s palm-sized and looks weighty. Little groves run along the edges, slightly darker than the rest.

“Can this wait?” Ryou leans against the doorway, half because he’s tired and half because it blocks Shiro’s view of the destruction inside.

Shiro eyes him, his stony expression giving nothing away. “If it absolutely has to. But I’d like this to be done as soon as possible.”

Ugh. Fine. Ryou snatches the thing up. It’s lighter than he would have thought, and has a peculiar texture. It’s not regular metal _ , _ though it’s put together like it should be. “No one else can do this?”

“They all have their own jobs. This is from the mission where you were gone.”

No other context. Nothing about where this thing is from, who had it, and why they took it.

Ryou eyes Shiro again, then sighs. “Fine, whatever.” He takes it inside, mentally steeling himself against the inevitable judgement. Shiro’s not completely Mr. Neat-and-Tidy, though he’d like others to think that way. He just doesn’t keep enough things for them to get messy.

Well, let him judge. Let him come to his own conclusions. Ryou’s a wreck. What are they going to do about it? Kick him out now?

Ryou fishes his tool kit out of the wreckage, only to find half of the tools have spilled out. He curses and collects them all, slamming each down on the desk. Once he has what he needs, he roughly sits down at the desk and starts to pry the thing about.

Shiro, thankfully, says nothing. He steps inside enough for the door to close, then sits down on Ryou’s bed.

Ryou purposefully doesn’t look back. He tries to project how few shits he gives about Shiro’s opinion, which is difficult when he cares  _ far too fucking much. _

Thankfully, the little device takes up his concentration. There are no screws, nothing that seems to hold it together. The more he messes with it, the more Ryou is sure it isn’t made of metal, but something as firm and nearly as smooth.

Eventually, he manages to get in a screwdriver and just wrench some of the plating off. The inside is made of the exact same material, and some woven wires that twist to connect it all. Ryou quickly identifies the power source and some kind of data storage, then a lens.

Curiosity officially stoked, Ryou activates it from the inside. A light blossoms onto the desk, with flickering shapes inside. Twisting, Ryou points it at the wall, and the shapes become clear. 

Figures run across a field, tossing and kicking several balls between them and trying to store in various hoops.

This is a recording of a game of  Gratiplen between two Olkari teams.

What could the Galra possibly care about-

They don’t, do they?

This isn’t made of metal. It’s made of plant matter. It wasn’t screwed together. It was grown.

Ryou sets the device down, turns to face Shiro, and crosses his arms. “Where did you get this?”

Shiro tries to keep up his serious posture. But, slowly, he wilts in place. “A vendor on Olkari. I thought you and Allura would appreciate more games to watch.”

“And you decided to lie to me because...?”

Shiro sighs and looks down at his lap. He folds both hands together over his knees. “I heard crashing noises. I thought you could do with something to occupy your mind that isn’t destruc-”

He cuts off and dives to the side just as Ryou  _ hurls _ the thing at his stupid fucking face.

The projector smashes into the wall beyond Ryou’s bed. Without the casing, it breaks apart into a dozen pieces, scattering everywhere.

“Hey!”

“Couldn’t you just leave me  _ alone?” _ Ryou snarls, standing up in one jerky motion. He grips the top of his chair, half to crush something and half because he feels dizzy with his sudden fury. “Can’t I just be upset for five fucking minutes?”

Shiro holds up both hands, eyes wide and going pale. Scared.

Who’s afraid of the big, bad clone?

“You can be,” Shiro says, so fast he nearly trips over the words. All his earlier calm has completely fallen apart, showing ragged pain below. “I know I told Hunk and Lance to leave you alone. But-”

“But what?” Ryou stalks forward, teeth bared, right fist clenched tight. He gets right up in Shiro’s face, just to watch his eyes go wider. 

Let him be afraid. Let him push back. 

Ryou’s not interested in being a good little clone today.

“You wouldn’t let me do this!” Shiro gestures to the room, his own expression clouding over. “You’d barge in and make me spar you, or prod me until I snap, or something! You don’t go away when I’m mad or crying. Why can’t I do the same?”

That-

That’s different. It’s  _ different. _ Ryou knows what Shiro needs. He remembers those fears and what it’s like to completely freeze up. Shiro can’t understand Ryou back.

Or maybe he can. Maybe Ryou isn’t that different after all.

Shiro reaches up, cupping both sides of Ryou’s jaw. His grip is tight and rough, resisting an attempt to shake him off that Ryou hasn’t committed.

“You don’t care when I’m a mess. You help me anyway. I want to do the same for you. I want this to go both ways.”

Ryou slams his eyes shut. 

Immediately, part of him feels guilty. It’s not like Shiro had a good time today either. He’s probably feeling like shit after having a flashback and fighting the very literal reflections of his past.

But...

“It’s not about what you want,” Ryou forces out past his teeth. He doesn’t open his eyes. He feels his hands start to tremble, so he clenches them tighter. “For fucking once, it’s not.”

“I know,” Shiro says. His grip gentles now that Ryou clearly isn’t fighting him. “But can it be about what you need?”

Ryou snaps his eyes open to glare at Shiro again. Despite that, he doesn’t move away. “What if my need is for you to fuck off?”

“Then I will,” Shiro answers, immediately and raggedly honest. His eyes shine with sincerity. “But when I told everyone to give you space, I was thinking about what I would want in your shoes. You’ve proven that’s not usually what I need.”

Ryou stares at Shiro. The trembles grow worse, travelling up his arms and legs until his whole body is shaking.

Then, slowly, he crumples forward and presses his face into Shiro’s chest. 

“I don’t know why I care,” Ryou manages. He reaches up, clutching Shiro’s shirt. It reminds him of when he’d woken up after Haggar’s trap, a complete wreck. 

He’d nearly killed Shiro then.

“I don’t know why  _ you _ care.” Ryou leans in closer, holding tighter despite his words. “I’m...”

Broken. Wrong. Twisted.

“You’re my little brother,” Shiro says, soft but firm. He gathers Ryou up and shifts backward until they’re both sitting on Ryou’s bed. “I don’t say it much, I know. But you are.”

“I’m not, though.” Ryou picks up his head, eyes wet with tears. Shiro’s are dry, if sympathetic. (Emotionally unstable.) “You heard what I said. I... sometimes I still want...”

Shiro sighs. He smooths his hand up and down Ryou’s back. “I know. I admit, I never thought you felt that way. By the time I came back, you seemed... content. Even gleeful. Hell, Ryou, you’ve seemed  _ free. _ Sometimes I’ve been envious.”

Ryou presses his face into Shiro’s chest and gives a shrug. “It was... a consolation.”

“I should have guessed from how you reacted to the lions.” Shiro rests his chin on top of Ryou’s head, still rubbing slow circles into Ryou’s back. “I wish I could fix this for you. But I think if I said ‘okay, today you can be Shiro’, that wouldn’t help, would it? Or feel better?”

Would it?

Logistically, it would be difficult. He could dye his hair back, he could make an arm that looks more like Shiro’s, he could wear black armor. But he could never fly Black.

As for the responsibilities, Ryou hasn’t had to lead a mission in months. But he still technically has the skills.

Emotionally...

Much of Ryou flinches back from the idea. He’s  _ not allowed. _ He can’t let them think he’s regressing and becoming someone he’s not allowed to be.

The rest of him...

When he tries to imagine that - responding to ‘Shiro’, giving commands, running the coalition - he just feels  _ tired. _ Not just from the physical acts and responsibility, but from the weight of changing himself. Pretending.

Ryou is different now. It would be a facade.

“No,” Ryou mumbles out. “It wouldn’t.”

Shiro chuckles into Ryou’s hair. “Thought so. I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think you’re the first person to feel like he’s in his sibling’s shadow. Maybe that’s part of why you and Lance get along so well.”

That’s not-

Oh. Maybe it is kind of like that. Ryou remembers complaints like that - ‘my sibling is good at this skill, so I’m going to do something different’. He (Shiro) had always thought it was ridiculous. Just do what you want. But now he understands completely.

“I’d let you,” Shiro says. “For a while, at least. Try to be me. But I don’t think it would help.”

It wouldn’t.

Ryou nods into Shiro’s chest, going more lax against him. “Probably not. You’d really let me, though?”

“Sure. I mean, if I thought it’d be long term that’d be more complicated, but I know it wouldn’t be. You can’t be me anymore than I can be you. I can’t take apart a toy and figure out what it does. Or, I could, I guess, but it’d take far too much effort to be worth it.”

“Why are you okay with that?” Ryou looks up again, searching Shiro’s face. “If I wanted to take back your life, why would you let me?”

“Besides the fact that you wouldn’t?” Shiro shrugs. “Because, honestly, I don’t care what it takes. Maybe it’s just in this moment, but... fuck, Ryou, I’m just glad you’re  _ okay. _ You were cut open and then ran off with Matt and then today, and...” He trails off, yanking Ryou in close and holding him tight.

Oh. No wonder Shiro had been willing to do something so dark to that druid. He’s been hurting for a while now. Because of worry for Ryou.

Because they’re brothers, and Shiro wants to protect him too.

Ryou wraps his arms around Shiro’s chest, hugging him right back. It’s not a comfortable embrace, too tight on both their parts. But it’s reassuring anyway. Physically present. Protective.

Exactly what Ryou needs.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t very comforting in that lab,” Shiro admits, quieter now. “It was taking everything not to just...”

Shiro doesn’t need to finish. Ryou chuckles. “Lose your shit like I did?”

“Well, yes.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. Someone had to keep their cool. You did the right thing.”

Shiro’s hand curls around the edges of Ryou’s armor. “I’m glad you were honest. I’m glad you were free to show that emotion.”

It hadn’t been a choice, exactly. But even so, it makes sense. Shiro said he’s sometimes envious that Ryou gets to wear his heart on his sleeve.

It’s odd to think that Shiro might envy  _ Ryou. _

They really are siblings, apparently.

“You did exactly what I needed,” Ryou says. “Thank you for doing the responsible thing. And then for doing the not-responsible thing for me.”

“I would do so much worse. You have no idea.”

Ryou thinks of Galra generals and assassination attempts. He thinks of long nights together, his shirt wet from tears. He thinks of rough spars with neither of them holding back.

“I have some idea.”

Shiro scoots back until his back rests against the wall. Then he tugs Ryou in, until he’s as much in Shiro’s lap as he’ll fit. He doesn’t let go, just continues to pet over Ryou’s back.

It’s warm with them both pressed together. The armor makes everything more uncomfortable. They really don’t fit in the bed well together, especially sideways.

Despite that, Ryou doesn’t move. He closes his eyes and lets the tears drip down, quiet but unimpeded. He holds on and lets the long, long day drag him down into exhaustion.

With Shiro holding him, Ryou is safe. From the world and from his own worries. At least for a time.

***

Ryou blinks himself awake. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep. If anything he’d assumed he’d be up all night, and probably tomorrow.

The lights are dimmed, but not all the way off. He’s laying out on his bed, his boots and chestplate off, but the rest of his armor on. Both are on his bedside table, with a note in familiar, identical handwriting - ‘Remember to take off your arm’.

(Hypocrite. Shiro would get the same reminder if he’d just get his own replaced).

Ryou pushes himself up, blinking sleepily. The pieces of the Olkari toy are neatly stacked on his desk, as are the pieces of Mini Voltron. His other projects and tools are put back into place, and the shattered mug is completely cleaned up.

Of course Shiro neatened up. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. Even if he’s not as fastidious as he likes to project, he’s not the sort to leave someone’s mess alone.

Rubbing under his eyes, Ryou looks around his room, trying to figure out what time it is.

Only for there to be a knock at the door. Loud and quick, like it’s not the first time the person at the door has tried.

“Ryou?” Keith calls. “You there?”

Ah. That would be why he woke up, probably.

Ryou stands up slowly, shoving his messy bangs out of his face. Then he stumbles his way across the room to open the door. “Hm?”

Keith and Pidge both stand on the other side, peering up expectantly. Keith still has one hand up, curled for another knock, but he drops it when he realizes the door has opened.

Given the day, Ryou wouldn’t normally feel bad telling them to buzz off and let him get back to sleeping. But they have such serious expressions that he bites back the words.

“What’s up?”

Pidge shifts her laptop under one arm and frowns up at him. “Were you sleeping?” There’s an incredulous note to her voice, like she can’t quite believe it.

Well, join the club. Except it was hardly drifting off to sleep and more like passing out after an emotional outburst. Not that Ryou needs to admit that to anyone.

“It’s fine. I’m up. What’s going on?”

Keith glances at Pidge, clearly in askance, before he straightens. “We want you to come with us to the med bay.”

What?

“I wasn’t really hurt,” Ryou says slowly, then pauses. Their faces are too firm. Not grim, but uncomfortably close.

Only then does Ryou remember that Pidge got access to all of the druid’s information. Including on how the clones are built - and therefore what’s lurking inside of Ryou. After all, the druid had literally told them Haggar has ways to control him.

Swallowing, Ryou steps forward and closes the door behind him. “Do you need to...” He trails off, holding his wrists in front of him like they’re cuffed together.

Pidge winces, holding her laptop tighter. “No. I don’t think so.” Her eyes flicker to Keith, almost guilty.

Ah, so that’s why Keith is here. Ryou remembers full well when his original arm was turned off. A second slower and he would have attacked them. Keith is here as a bodyguard while Pidge handles the tech.

He’s a threat.

Ryou’s stomach sinks to his feet, all the comfort he gained from Shiro’s reassurance lost. But he takes a deep breath and steels himself. Then he nods for Pidge to lead.

They’re silent as they walk. It’s hard not to take that as a bad sign, a show of their destroyed trust in him. That they know he’s exactly what the druid implied - a spy, Haggar’s tool. A way inside no matter what they do.

Ryou knows he’s jumping to conclusions - Keith isn’t talkative and Pidge isn’t usually the one to start a conversation. Normally, he’d be the one getting them both to chat with him.

But staring at the back of their heads, Ryou can only keep his arms tucked by his side and swallow around the pounding heartbeat in his throat.

The med bay is empty as they arrive. Pidge gestures vaguely for Ryou to sit down on a table as she hooks her laptop into the nearest console. Ryou goes, still silent, and keeps a wary eye on Keith. 

Usually, Keith doesn’t bother to hide his aggression. People say he’s hard to read, but Ryou has never had that problem - a leftover from his bond with Shiro. He doesn’t  _ seem _ ready to burst into action, at least not more than usual. But he leans against the wall, Mamora blade on his hip, and carefully placed to get to the door before Ryou.

So not aggressive. But ready. Just in case.

Ryou’s not sure if that should make him feel better or not.

“Okay,” Pidge says, loudly and more than a bit awkwardly. She picks up one of Coran’s medical scanners and flicks it on and off to test it. Then she steps over to Ryou, only to pause. “Uh, can you, like, lean forward? Damn you all for being tall.”

“Keith’s not,” Ryou returns, before he can catch himself. Even so, he leans forward, nearly resting his chest along his bent legs.

Pidge’s fingers run gently over the back of Ryou’s neck. He shivers automatically, not used to a foreign touch somewhere so delicate. Old fighting instincts remind him how vulnerable he is, but he shoves the thought away.

“I’m still taller than Pidge,” Keith says blandly. “Actually, pretty much everyone but the Arusians have been.”

“Shut up. That’s not true.” There’s a pause, probably Pidge sticking her tongue out at Keith. Then there’s a click and a humming noise. “Alright, got it. And... there. You feel that?”

Ryou’s eyes go wide. He reaches up to touch the back of his neck, groping over the bare skin. “No. What was that?”

“There was a chip at the top of your spine. Same thing that took over when Haggar put the virus in that weapons base computer. It’s plated with something weird so the scanner never caught it until we knew what to look for.”

Ryou sits up, eyes wide and still clutching his neck. His stomach twists into itself until he has to fight back a gag. “That’s inside me?”

“Probably Shiro too,” Pidge confirms. She meets his gaze confidently, refusing to flinch away. “We could keep the signal from getting through your arm, but now we turned off where it interfaces. So no matter what, it won’t work now.”

Swallowing hard, Ryou gives a slow, distant nod. He presses his fingers in hard, trying to feel the chip she’s talking about. All he can feel is skin, muscle and bone, just like anywhere else. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Pidge says. “She’d have to dig it out and turn it back on manually to fix it, and I think we’ll know if that happens. Now, let me see your right shoulder.”

Ryou does, turning so his right side is facing her. It turns him more toward Keith, who arches a brow at him.

“You okay?” Keith asks.

“Yes?” Ryou blinks rapidly, bracing his left hand on the table. “No. I don’t know.”

Keith’s expression softens. “Hey. We’re not trying to freak you out. We want to make sure you can never be messed with by Haggar or those druids again.”

That’s been said so many times before. Reassured like he’s a kid. ‘No, Ryou, you’re all better now. Haggar can never mess with you again.’

But apparently he had a chip in his neck the whole time.

Except now Pidge does know and turned it off.

“Alright, that’s a negative.” Pidge pats his shoulder distractedly. “Figured as much, it seems to be an idea they never implemented. There was a possibility that your arm actually went up to your shoulder blade. I mean, technically, your humerus is completely metal for support, but we knew that. Nothing else.”

Okay. Okay. That sounds good. Ryou drops his hold on his neck to clutch at his right shoulder instead. He’s suddenly acutely aware of the joint. He did know his bones have metal support - Shiro does too. But right now the reminder makes his stomach twist.

Pidge takes his wrist and firmly tugs it away. “Need your chest, now. Sit up straight and puff up.”

Ryou obeys hazily, blinking down at Pidge as she presses the scanner to his breastbone. “What are you looking for now?”

For the first time, Pidge winces. “You might not...”

“Tell me.” The order comes out low and authoritative. Shiro-like. Ryou refuses to flinch back or look over at Keith.

Pidge grips the scanner tighter and crosses her arms. “I’m looking for...” She trails off, wincing, before steeling herself. “A bomb.”

A bomb. Inside-

Ryou’s heart kicks into high gear. He covers his chest, like he can prevent an explosion just from holding it back. “I have a-?”

“No!” PIdge holds up both hands and shakes her head hard. “You don’t. I swear you don’t. I mean, I hate to say it, but I think we would have noticed recently when you were...” She draws a line down her chest.

“Pidge!” Keith pushes off the wall, glowering at her. “C’mon, seriously?”

Pidge shrugs, throwing her arms wide. “I’m just saying! We would have. But I checked anyway. And no. I don’t think they ever implemented it. Like, honestly, there’s not really a good amount of explosive that you can hide undetectably in a human body that’ll do significant outside damage. It’ll get muffled and it’s not like there’s a ton of free space-”

“Please stop,” Ryou says. Begs. He holds his chest tighter and strains against a sudden, hard gag.

“Oh. Um.” Pidge pats him on the back, biting her bottom lip. She looks over at Keith, wincing.

Keith sighs and steps over. He puts both hands on Ryou’s shoulders and holds them there until he finally looks up and meets his gaze.

“There’s years and years of ideas we’re going through,” Keith says bluntly. “From some of the most evil minds in the universe. They’re going to be scary ideas, because nothing Haggar does is good. But whatever is there, we’re going to  _ fix. _ You never have to worry about it again.”

Ryou takes a deep, bracing breath. He nods sharply, reaching up to put his hands over Keith’s. They squeeze below his touch, so he squeezes back.

“Okay,” Ryou manages. He straightens up. “What’s left?”

“Just one more test,” Pidge says. “I’m pretty sure this one isn’t there, but better to check and be sorry. Open your mouth and say ‘ah’.” She produces a metal stick.

Ryou eyes it, but opens his mouth without complaint. “Aaah.”

Pidge rubs the stick against his cheek, then takes it back to the computer and presses it into an empty hole.

“What’s this one for?”

“A DNA trigger to degrade a wayward or kidnapped clone,” Pidge answers distantly. Then she winces and glances back, clearly remembering Ryou’s last reaction. “I mean, uh-”

“Oh, the failsafe.” Ryou tongues the spot that had been scraped. “Yeah, Shiro and I checked for that one after the weird rift thing. I have the medicine for it, and we didn’t find-”

The computer beeps. Pidge turns, then freezes.

“Um. About that.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Ryou’s stomach drops to his feet. “What?”

“One second. I want to compare against what you and Shiro looked for.” Pidge types furiously fast, pulling up several other files. The pair of them overlap, and then she winces. “Okay, so. You don’t have  _ that _ failsafe. Actually, you don’t even have  _ our _ failsafe. You have something... else.”

But- it’s been more than a year. They checked. Ryou was safe.

Except he’d said it himself, hadn’t he? He might have a broken version. Dangerous in the way a bomb with a malfunctioning trigger is dangerous. You never know when it’ll go off.

“What does that mean?” Keith demands. He comes over, peering over her shoulder.

Ryou doesn’t. He’s never looked at the failsafe information, only trusted Shiro to look into it and check.

“I think it’s inert. This might be responsible for some of your...” Pidge gestures to her mouth. “Unusual traits. But yeah, they tried to imbed the failsafe. It just didn’t work.”

Ryou shrugs. “And, if they noticed, they figured it didn’t matter. They thought I would die during testing. So they’d see how far I go on the planet and figure out what to improve from there.”

“Sounds likely.” Pidge shivers, expression darkening. “Those assholes. The important thing is that it doesn’t work now. If it ever does, we can either use the medicine you have or make our own. We know what’s wrong, it won’t be hard to fix. Just keep an eye out if you feel weird.”

Ryou scrubs over his face and takes a deep breath. But of all the problems to have, it was only the devils he already knew. The failsafe and the computer virus.

He’s been living with that already. Now they know for sure. Now they can beat this.

“I can pass this on to some of our allies. Come up with a gene therapy that’ll treat it before it even goes off. But that might take a while.”

Ryou nods slowly and slides off the table. He looks down at his hands, tracing up the metal arm to his shoulder. Then he presses the palm over the back of his neck.

That chip had been waiting inside, undetected. But now it’s gone. The rest of Haggar’s tricks are deactivated, broken, or never implemented.

“We’ll keep an eye out. It hasn’t happened so far.” Ryou blinks at Pidge and Keith, finally understanding what they were doing. 

This wasn’t to handle a threat. Keith was there in case some old programming kicked in, but...

This was to make Ryou safe. Not from others, but to himself.

Maybe Haggar can use magic to force Ryou to do something, but only as much as she can do that to any member of the team. Not as a clone, but as a person, just like anyone else.

“I’m free, aren’t I?” Ryou asks slowly.

Pidge beams up at him, proud and giddy as when he’s learned a complicated piece of machinery. “Yup. You are.” She holds out her arms.

Ryou swoops in and gives her a tight squeeze. Then he does the same for Keith, ignoring the way he stiffens. “Thank you. Thank you both.”

“Glad to help. For everyone.” Keith gives him a pat on the back, then leans into it like he would Shiro. He does pull away more quickly, though.

Once he’s untangled himself from Keith, Pidge grabs onto his arm and uses it to tug Ryou along. “Now that you know you’re totally safe, come on.”

“Come on where?” Ryou asks, even as he lets himself be pulled along. As they go into the hallway, Keith turns the other direction without a word. Ryou cranes his neck to watch him, confused.

Pidge lifts her chin up. “To the common room. So you can play board games with us.”

Oh, what Lance and Hunk had been talking about. Ryou winces. “ That’s not why I didn’t want to go. I told them already that I’m not really the best company today.”

“I don’t care,” Pidge says, downright imperious. “We want you around even when you’re not on your best behavior. Because you’re our friend. Do you really think you’re doing better moping in your room? We let you stew, but now you should have fun with us.”

Actually, Ryou hadn’t been alone for long. But he doesn’t really want to reveal the moment he had with Shiro, not when it was so fraught and emotional. 

Besides, between Shiro and the examination, he does feel oddly better. Both ripped him open, but neither were disappointed by what they found.

So Ryou doesn’t protest or pull back as Pidge charges them down the hall to the common room. The doors open automatically, revealing a table already strewn with game pieces. Coran sat at the head, with Allura on one side and Lance and Hunk on the other.

“Ah, good! This game is best with more people.” Coran waves a heavy book at them. “Come decide your character.”

“Character for what?”

“Kind of Monsters and Mana,” Hunk says, pronouncing the name of the game carefully. He eyes Coran, who clearly is the cause for that portion. “And kind of a few other things. We’re making it up as we go.”

“And you’re on our team for sure.” Lance gestures Ryou over, then tugs him until he’s squished in the tiny space between Lance and Hunk. They barely scoot enough to let him sit, but their shoulders pressed hard on either side.

Coran huffs. “There are no teams in-” He pauses, mustache twitching thoughtfully. “Or you could be  _ competing _ bands of adventurers.”

Ryou takes a tablet from Coran, eyes nearly crossing at all the stats and numbers and strange terms. But the building process seems to be in steps that break it down, which should hopefully make it less intimidating.

At first, Ryou’s stomach twists at the idea of competing teams. He doesn’t want to be against anyone on the team.

But he’s free. He’s safe. So why not?

“I want to be against Shiro,” Ryou announces firmly. “And with Lance and Hunk.”

“Hell yes!” Lance holds up a hand for a high five. “We’re going to kick their asses.”

Allura huffs and gestures Pidge over. “Don’t be so sure of that.”

“I mean, yeah. Because we’re going to get Keith too, and we have more players.”

Oh, wait, that’s true. Ryou narrows his eyes in thought, then his eyes brighten. “Can the mice play?”

Allura gasps, affronted by the idea that the mice would be  _ against  _ her. The argument grows louder, nearly covering the sound of the door opening and admitting Keith and Shiro.

But not quite. Ryou glances over and catches Shiro’s eyes. He gives him a smile, and doesn’t need to say ‘thank you’. Shiro will know.

He does, and gives a smile back.

(In the end, they end up as one party, not as two)

(Coran kicks all their asses anyway. And Ryou hasn’t had such a fun afternoon in months.)


End file.
